scrap paper: a drabble collection
by Destined To Repeat
Summary: Friendship, humor, angst, and romance, sprinkles of Ed/Winry. Challenge Twelve: "This is your first date, and MY first date, and we're gonna do this the way it's supposed to be done if it KILLS somebody!"
1. Challenge One: Clouds

_Challenge 1: Clouds_

Nine-year-old Edward Elric glared at the sky. "I don't see anything."

His little brother, Alphonse, nudged him lightly in the ribs. "You just need a little imagination," he said plaintively. "Like, don't you think that one up there looks like an alchemic pentagon?"

"Looks like an alchemic _blob_ to me," said Ed grumpily.

The girl on Ed's other side pinched him in the arm. "Don't be a spoilsport," Winry told him, ignoring his 'ow!' "I mean, that cloud to the left looks just like a spanner, don't you think? And that one Is exactly like a P-96.5 customized automatic-fit wrench! And _that_ one—"

"They. All. Look. Like. Clouds," Ed insisted, cutting off Winry's fanatic babble.

"Oh, come on, Brother. There has to be _something_ that one of the clouds reminds you of."

"Hmm…" Ed tilted his head thoughtfully, and then pointed upwards with one of the hands that had previously been pillowing his head. "Well, that one sort of looks like Al's head."

"Huh? It does not!"

"Does too. Don't you think, Winry?"

"Umm…I guess it could look like a head…"

"See?"

"'See' what? She just said it looked like _a_ head. Maybe it's _your_ head!"

"Nu-uh, it's _your_ head."

"_Your_ head!"

"_Your_ head!"

"_Your_ head!"

"You know, it _does_ kind of look like Ed's head," Winry interjected speculatively.

"Hah! So _there!"_

"Wha—it does not!"

"Does too. It even has your antenna. Right Winry?"

"Yeah, it does," the girl admitted.

"Hmph. Well, that itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny one looks like both of your brains. Put together!"

"You are so immature, Brother," Al sighed.

"Shut up! Children should respect their elders!"

"…."

"…."

"…."

"That really, really short one down there looks like Ed's temper," Winry declared at last. Al laughed.

"I said shut up!"


	2. Challenge Two: Resemblance

_Challenge 2: Resemblance _

Alphons Heiderich found his way back to the café table and set one of the coffees in his hands at his place and the other in front of Edward. The sixteen-year-old smiled briefly in thanks and then returned his gaze to his lap. Alphons sat down, a little bit awkwardly, wondering if there was any way he could lighten the atmosphere.

But, really, what could he say to a colleague that had just accidentally blurted out that the only reason they were such good friends was because he used to have a brother that looked just like Alphons?

They sat there in silence for a while, Alphons fiddling with his cup and Edward looking pointedly around the coffee shop, at anywhere but his friend.

After ten minutes of uneasy silence, Edward surprised him by letting out a long breath; the sort of long breath that seemed to say "what-have-I-gotten-myself-into-this-time?"

"So…" Alphons began, not really knowing what he was planning to do now that he'd gotten Edward marginally more approachable. But the blonde cut him off again.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The seventeen-year-old blinked. An apology was the last thing he'd expected. "What are you sorry for? For me bearing a resemblance to your little brother? For joining the same rocket science company as I did?"

"For…for…for being friends with you at first only because I thought you would be like him," Ed muttered, ducking his head as if that would hide his humiliated blush.

"Well, I don't mind," Alphons said sincerely. "At least this way we became friends. You must have loved him a lot…I'll bet you miss him, that's all."

Edward's face suddenly went stern. "Not 'loved'. _'Love'._ He's not dead yet, and neither am I." He paused for a moment. "I think."

The older boy smiled somewhat fixedly at his friend. He'd heard of Edward's…mental instabilities, but he'd never really seen them himself before. Was the death of his brother what sent him over the edge? That seemed to be the most likely situation. Either way, it's amazing that he was still a scientific genius even though he was…Well, he wouldn't say _insane_, but…

Edward's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I think that if he had grown up…I mean, if I had _seen_ him grow up…he might look a lot like you—well, here, I'll draw you a picture."

Alphons watched as the blonde pulled a fountain pen out of his pocket and began to sketch a few lines on his napkin. As soon as the older boy was done, he slid it across the table and said in a surprisingly affectionate tone, "See? Isn't he cute? Don't you see the similarities?"

Alphons Heiderich blinked at the picture, then rubbed his eyes, then blinked, then rubbed his eyes again. The drawing remained as illogical as it was when he first looked at it.

The seventeen-year-old glanced up uncertainly at the artist and found, to his horror, that the artist was staring straight back.

"So? What do you think?" Edward asked expectantly, his golden eyes huge with a fondness that Alphons had never seen before.

"He's…um…cute?" he guessed, and was rewarded by a fervent nod as Ed began to gush over his adorable little brother.

Alphons stared at the picture again, ignoring his companion's babble, and wondered what exactly Edward thought was so cute about a giant suit of armor.

_He must be crazier than I thought…_


	3. Challenge Three: Back and Forth

--The, uh, recurring, 'is not, is too, is not' arguments are, um...not a sign of my lack of vocabulary skills/creativity... the prompts sort of just wrote themselves, so, uh... heh--Blame the prompts! (points and runs when everyone is looking the other way) And, lol, *#?$'s ftw!

Righty then.

_Challenge 3: Back and Forth_

A loud crash echoed through the offices of Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, nearly knocking a framed picture off the wall had it not been for Lieutenant Hawkeye, who caught it and slapped it back onto its hook. The other occupants of the room, Lieutenants Havoc, Falman, Breda, and Fuery, all looked toward the closed door with no small amount of trepidation. They feared for their colonel's life, certainly, but more importantly, they feared for themselves, after the storm had passed and their unit was inevitably left with a truckload of damage fees and a bad-tempered Flame Alchemist.

There was another loud smash, much like an automail fist colliding with a mahogany military-issue desk, and then the door slammed open (Lieutenant Hawkeye put a steadying hand on the picture) and smacked against the wall. A 4'11" major by the name of Edward Elric stomped out, cursing a blue streak. Havoc and Falman carefully placed their hands over Fuery's delicate ears.

"Hey Major," said Breda tentatively.

"Hello, Lieutenant," the fourteen-year-old replied through gritted teeth.

"Umm…May I inquire as to what you're doing?"

Ed, who was pulling back his right sleeve, revealing dented, ruthless automail, sighed. "If you must. I need to break the glass so I can set the fire alarm." He smiled wicked little smile, laughed maliciously, and the lieutenants shivered. "The sprinklers will go off—and here's the best part—one of them is right over Colonel B—Mustang's head. Hmph…there goes his high-and-mighty attitud—gah!"

"Hold it right there." Roy Mustang gave the boy a glare before releasing the chokehold on him and shoving him away from the alarm. "That's playing dirty." And finally even Hawkeye looked up, because if the Colonel was actually _out of his desk_, then clearly this was a Matter of Great Importance.

"Like I care! If you can go out of your way to make me look stupid, why can't I do the same!?"

Roy sighed, then said wisely, "You're such a child, Fullmetal."

Falman, Breda, Havoc, and Fuery (who didn't really know what was going on, mainly because his ears were still covered) were not too sure that provoking him was maybe the smartest idea. The fact that Ed's face was slowly turning the same color as his coat only served to heighten the very, very _bad_ feeling.

"I am. Not. A child," he ground out.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"AM NOT!"

"Are too—am not."

"_ARE TOO!"_ Edward froze. Stared. Spluttered furiously, and then, as promised, exploded into an all-out fit.

"YOU STUPID &*^$##^, ~!#%^&%*&(!*+ING, WRINKLED OLD *!#$% ^-%&*%($*&~~~!"

By the time Fuery was allowed to hear again, the Fullmetal Alchemist had been bodily dragged from the office by security, swearing to wipe the +&%!^*$-ing smirk off the Colonel's face all the way down the hall.

The next day the sprinkler over Roy's desk was removed.


	4. Challenge Four: Snowball Fight

--A take on a VERY old idea. More Ed and Roy squabbling :)

_Challenge 4: Snowball Fight_

Shlup, shlop, shlup, shlop, shlup, shlop, sh—

Roy Mustang looked down at his foot, which was currently stuck in a giant pile of slush. He narrowed his eyes, lightly tugging on it in an attempt to pull it back out. However, slush is stickier than you'd think it would be and it stubbornly held on to his boot. After quite a bit of cursing, wiggling his toes, and feeling stupid, Colonel Mustang finally managed to retrieve his left foot, accompanied by a loud slurping noise not unlike a toilet being unplugged. And then he continued along his (not-so) merry way.

Roy Mustang hated the snow.

Snow was wet and cold and wet and sticky and muddy and wet and _wet._ According to him, if ice was water solidified (which it was), then snow was water with a bright smile and a handful of candy saying, "All you need to do is hop into the car...." Snow was water's dastardly disguise, trying to worm its way into his hair and coat and shoes and _gloves._ Roy carefully squished his ignition gloves farther into his pocket. Snow was fine when it was white and frozen, but snow melts, and when it does….

Just as the Colonel was about to completely lose it and flame all the wretched snow into oblivion, a cold, wet something smacked into the back of his head and exploded, dripping ice all down his back.

Slowly, the Colonel turned around and glared at the thrower of the snowball, one Fullmetal Alchemist.

Unfortunately, said Fullmetal Alchemist did not receive this glare because he was looking in the opposite direction, hands in pockets and an entirely too innocent expression on his face.

Roy bent down and scooped up a pile of snow (and now his leather gloves were wet too—another thing to blame on the brat), shaping it into a respectable sphere and lobbing it at the fifteen-year-old's head.

The snowball hit dead-on. Roy cheered mentally while Edward spluttered and wiped the slush from his face, his eyes darting around in search for the perpetrator. Their gazes locked for the first time, and Ed's eyes widened; he was much too shocked for the Colonel's liking. Huh. Maybe Fullmetal _hadn't_ thrown that snowball.

Oops.

And that was the last thought he had before he was bombarded by a snowdrift's worth of ammunition.

But Roy Mustang was not one to go down quite so easily. He recovered much more quickly than Ed had and reciprocated by way of his own barrage.

(…The problem here is that both competitors are way too stubborn for their own good. Roy would never allow a subordinate to one-up him—especially not Ed. And can you see Ed ever admitting defeat to Roy?

…Didn't think so.

Alright, back to the story.)

Meanwhile, whilst the author bored you with a lengthy narration, the snow-tussle had turned into an all-out war. Ed had felt himself starting to lose and, true to his alias, transmuted his metal arm to a long, sharp blade curling over his fingers, and used it to slice the snowballs clean in half. The Colonel was employing an easier method: he had cracked out his ignition gloves and was reducing Edward's attempts to vanquish him to pitiful puddles of watery goo. With the other hand, he continued shooting snow at the blonde.

By the time Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye thought that the Colonel was taking too long and came to hurry him up, she found Roy and Edward wrestling on the ground, their hair and clothes coated in snow, the snowballs completely forgotten.

"You're going to catch cold that way, Sir."

And he did.

…Roy Mustang hated the snow.


	5. Challenge Five: Jailbreak

--I don't write Winry a lot, because for one reason or another it's sometimes hard for me to get into her head, and she is a wonderfully strong, unique character, and I'm terrified of not doing her justice--I think this time worked out though :)

_Challenge 5: Jailbreak_

The boy sat quietly on his tiny wooden bed, eyes downcast and turned dully away from the meager remains of light that filtered into the room in skeletal columns. His hands, one flesh and one metal, were confined in a thick pair of handcuffs; the handcuffs that were more like a broad piece of wood than anything; the handcuffs that were used for criminal alchemists.

There is no sound in his cell, not even the echo of footsteps from the guards or the clamor of lawbreakers in the cells around him, because there is no one around him. He is kept in a far corner of the prison, quarantined from the other, milder felons for their safety. The guards are too afraid to do any more than check in every once in a while.

This is the penalty of human transmutation.

More than the cell, more than the sparse rations he received, more than the ban on visitors, more than _anything_ was the silence. He hated the silence most because it forced him to hear his own thoughts, to relive that moment, again and again and again… He knew what would drive him crazy one day was the silence.

And at the same time there was a release, because he knew he deserved this.

And somehow that knowledge was even worse than the release.

There was a muffled clanging noise near the barred window, almost like the yowl of an alley cat, and then a voice whispered, so soft that he thought he must have imagined it: "Ed…Ed!"

The boy blinked lifelessly, not bothering to lift his head for a hallucination. Nobody knew where he was; not anybody who cared, at least. And even if they did know, who could possibly—

"Edward! Edward Elric, are you there?"

Surprise flashed across his face like a static-electricity spark, there and then gone. "…Win…ry…?" he whispered, his voice cracked and brittle from lack of use.

"Is that you, Ed? Get over here so I can see you, you moron!"

He stood slowly, a disbelieving sort of obedience, and turned to face the diminutive window. Looking back at him was a teenaged girl with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, clutching a file and a screwdriver. She looked exactly as he remembered her.

"Wh…what are you doing here? I didn't—"

"No, you didn't," she replied, looking annoyed. "You never do, do you? Anyway, go be lookout, I'll take care of these."

"But—" he began, before she cut him off with an irritated, "I thought I told you to be lookout?"

"There's no need," he told her honestly. His voice was coming in stronger now, less like a fading radio broadcast and more like his old tone. "Look, you can't break through these bars, they were developed explicitly so that they can't be broken, filed, or—"

"Done," she said, removing the entire frame. She grinned at his incredulous expression and waved for him to follow her into the alley. He was going to be free. His stomach lurched.

"Winry…" he managed at last, his voice cracking for a different reason this time. "How can I ever thank—"

"With cash," she said immediately. "Now come on, you've got everyone waiting."

He stared at her, almost daring her to start laughing and tell him it was all a joke. But she just stared back, and finally, for the first time in weeks, he grinned.

And then Edward took her hand, and let her lead him back into freedom.


	6. Challenge Six: Impression

--My friend insists that this is the real main pairing of FMA. I tell her to go back to her corner with the Scar/Black Hayate shippers. Anyway, obviously, crack pairing ahead ;)

_Challenge 6: Impression_

"You've heard about the uprising in the Eastern area, right?"

Sheska's eyes widened in awe. "You were involved in that too?"

Second Lieutenant Havoc took a long, suave-looking (he thought) drag on his cigarette. "Involved in it? My dear Sheska, I've been known as the Hero of Eastern Drachma since that incident."

Her eyes grew even bigger. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. The soldier got into a shooting stance, acting out his heroic mission. "I was in the front lines, fighting for my life, but I still managed to save fifteen children from a burning house, a pregnant lady, and a Labrador retriever. I even defended the city's innocents from the rebels with my own body." Jean looked past her, his eyes distant with old memories. "They were so thankful that they made a 'Jean Havoc Day'. Not only that, but they erected a statue of me, and they throw confetti on it on Jean Havoc Day every year. I also have a street there, you know… Havoc Boulevard."

"Oh, my gosh," she squeaked, her face full of new-found admiration. "That's incredible! I bet you're a downright _legend _in Eastern Drachma!"

"Eastern Drachma?" Riza asked, coming up behind Sheska. "I remember that. Not much of an uprising, compared to what they made it out as. The Colonel cut the rebels off from the front with his fire and I shot down the ones that insisted on defying orders…Breda and Falman enclosed them from behind, and Fuery orchestrated all the soldiers from Headquarters." She turned her eyes to Havoc, who tried to motion for her to shut up. She ignored him. "If I recall, Jean, you had caught the flu that day, and spent the entire time in Headquarters in a fetal position, staying out of the way." She nodded to Sheska and continued on her way.

Meanwhile, Havoc had been reduced to a withered strand of miserable existence. He parked himself in a corner, a cloud of gloominess almost visible over his head. "I'll go away now…" he muttered dolefully.

"I—I still think you're a hero!" she cried desperately. "Even if you don't really do anything" –Havoc made a noise almost like a dog being kicked— "I still think you're amazing!"

The second lieutenant looked over his shoulder hopefully. "Really?"

"Really." She put her fingers up to demonstrate. "I mean, you are… well, you're…I guess you're pretty… but compared to the Colonel…you would be…you're…" Sheska's eyebrows furrowed in concentration for a moment and then finally she said, "…Nice?"

Jean Havoc curled more tightly into his corner, while the brunette grew more and more hysterical behind him, asking him frantically if it was something she said.


	7. Challenge Seven: Switch

_Challenge 7: Switch_

Ed tried to make himself as small as was physically possible, sinking lower and lower in his seat, face burning and eyes shifting while Al, apparently oblivious to the stares they were receiving, continued stomping around and growling under his breath and making a scene. As if it wasn't enough to scream obscenities at that nice old man from the station….

Even getting on the train hadn't helped, because the people watching them in the station were the same people who had gotten on the train with them. And Ed kept warning Al that if he didn't sit down and stop giving innocent passersby death glares, people would think he was some kind of demon, but Alphonse was clearly not in the mood to stay still.

"He called me big, Brother!" he cried, voice _crackling_ with outrage. "Did you _hear_ him?! He just _sat_ there, all innocent-like, and _just sat there_ and called me _BIG!"_

"I know, Al, but he was old, and probably he couldn't see very well, and Al, you've got to sit down," Ed whispered back, pleading now. _He_ wasn't blind to the glares his little brother was getting, even if Al himself was.

Al was still muttering furiously to himself, so Ed gave him a (slightly fixed) smile and said, "I mean, we've got bigger things to worry about, right?"

That made Al stop. "Well, I guess… yeah, we—Wait a minute, are you calling me big?!"

The last few words were almost a scream, and Ed cried, "Al, shh, you'll wake up the—!"

There was a tiny little mewling noise from above them.

Al froze; and then slowly, _slowly,_ looked up.

Ed winced.

"—passengers," he finished, quietly, lamely. "You'll wake up the passengers."

"Brother," said Al, much too calmly. "What exactly is in your suitcase?"

Ed gulped. "Nothing, Al, I mean—hehe—why would there be something in my suitcase? I mean, aside from my clothes and stuff. You know what's in my suitcase... papers and books and... Nope, nothing unusual in my suitcase, I am one hundred percent sure of that—"

Al just looked at him. Ed slumped farther into his seat.

"It's—it's nothing," he stammered. "I just…uh…I was going to tell you, but it didn't seem like such a good time…"

Al just kept looking at him. Ed could almost see the raised eyebrow.

The older brother grinned apologetically. "Just don't get mad, okay?" He took his suitcase down from the rack and opened it, smiling at the thing inside. Then he scooped it up in his hands, turning pleading eyes on his little brother.

"Can we keep him?" he asked hopefully.

"Brother!" Al groaned. "Not again! How many times do I have to tell you—NO CATS!"

"But—But it had nowhere else to go!"

"I don't care, put it back!"

"But—"

"You know we can't afford a cat!" Al took a deep breath, forcing his voice into a brittle kind of calm. "Listen, Edward. You will leave this cat at the animal shelter immediately when we get off this train,_ am I understood?"_

Ed cuddled the kitten to his chest, crestfallen. "Fine," he muttered. "Kitty-killer."

"I AM NOT A KITTY-KILLER!"

More irritated glances thrown their way, but this time neither of them seemed to notice.


	8. Challenge Eight: Up and Down

_Challenge 8: Up and Down_

Ed was glaring.

Now, Ed glaring isn't a particularly rare occurrence—but there are glares and there are _glares_, and this was a _glare._

Dear readers, a glare is not just a facial expression. It is a weapon of mass destruction, a silent 'WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE CAN'T EVEN SEE OVER A CURB??!' and a good clue to start running in the other direction.

Other good clues would include crossed arms, mouth compressed into a line, nearby plants starting to wither away, and eyebrows drawn way down.

At the moment, Al was noticing every single one of these clues—minus the dying plants thing.

"Maybe we'll come back here after we recover our bodies," the younger brother suggested meekly.

Edward scowled, muttered a well-placed curse and, properly annoyed, began to climb off his end of the see-saw.


	9. Challenge Nine: Denial

--Lots of italics... o.0 More 'was not, was too's, am I insane? (ponders this)

_Challenge 9: Denial_

So maybe he _had_ been staring. But she had absolutely _no right_ to _notice_, especially when it was all her fault in the first place!

I mean, she was the one who... who... who _dared_ to sit near his line of vision, right?

And--okay, maybe he had sort of been acting just _slightly_ creepy about the whole thing, staring at the fall of her hair the _teeniest_ bit obsessively, and studying how it curled around her collarbone when she tilted her head just _so_, but seriously, how was that _his_ fault, she was the one with all that hair, and the.. and the _head_ that kept _tilting_, in _exactly--that--way._

Clearly she was conspiring against him.

And well--fine, it wasn't just her hair, it was also her eyes, and the pen that she was nibbling on absently as she studied her latest automail blueprints, and the mouth that she was nibbling with, but it was like he... like he _liked_ her or anything, because he didn't, of course he didn't, she just happened to have pretty hair. And eyes. And pretty much everything else. But aside from that she was her usual nasty self, still whacking him every other second with her wrench and screaming at him whenever he so much as scratched her precious automail, but she never said a word when _he_ showed up bruised, and that was precisely why he did not--NOT--like her, and never _would_ like her, because she was _entirely_ uncute.

UN. CUTE.

...And, NO, he was NOT getting jealous of his own _arm._

Anyway, the point was, that yes, Ed was staring, but it was _her_ fault, _not_ his, and everything would have been just _fine_ if she. Hadn't. Noticed.

But she did, the conniving witch. And now Ed was screwed.

"Why are you staring at me?" she said, eyes narrowed, and Ed jerked out of his thoughts and nearly fell off his chair in the process.

"W--why would you think I was staring at you?" he stammered, stalling. Her eyes narrowed even more, eyelashes dipping unintentionally, and if that glare hadn't been directed at _him_ it would actually be kinda--

"Because you _were,"_ she stated bluntly.

"Was not," Ed snapped back, mouth on automatic now.

"Was too!" Winry cried, disbelief raising her eyebrows and the beginnings of an angry flush crossing her cheeks and Ed _really_ had to stop noticing these things, he was starting to creep himself out.

"Was not!"

"Was TOO!"

"Was NOT"

"WAS. TOO."

"Well, it was your fault!" said Ed, angrily and one-hundred-percent truthfully.

"Then you _were_ staring."

And Ed's mind proceeded to go completely blank, save for one word that is not exactly appropriate to repeat.

"Well--you--you have no_ proof!"_ Ed cried, jumping gracelessly to his feet and jabbing a finger in Winry's direction.

"What, I need camera evidence?" she demanded, standing too. "I _saw_ you _staring!"_

"And would _that_ hold up in a court of law, I don't THINK so!" Ed retorted, just-slightly-hysterical-thank-you-very-much.

"You idiotic--" she began furiously, and Ed just turned and stomped out of the room, face burning, while Winry screamed after him, "Just admit that you like me already!"

"NEVER!"

(A/N: Ohh, Ed... it's not just a river in Egypt...)


	10. Challenge Ten: Voodoo Doll

_Challenge 10: Voodoo Doll_

Elysia Hughes thrust her new toy into the Brigadier General's face, practically glowing with pride. The General blinked his one good eye at it.

"What's this?" Roy Mustang asked, taking it from her.

The six-year-old deflated, and Roy groaned mentally, picturing how his best friend would punish him for this when he joined him…wherever he was.

"It's _you_, Uncle Roy," she told him, clearly disappointed. "Can't you tell?"

General Mustang surveyed the doll's floppy black hair, navy blue bead-eye, eye-patch, and blue jacket, which he assumed was supposed to be his military uniform. "Of course," he murmured at last. "How could I have missed that?"

It seemed that his inadequate comment was all that really needed to be said, because she immediately brightened and hurried to show him the rest of her new dolls. "Mommy helped me make them," she explained excitedly. "See, I have one of Mommy, and Teacher, and Big Sister, and Daddy" –Roy had a hard time ripping his eye away from that one— "and I have Big Big Brother—here, you can hold that one while I get Little Big Brother…." Elysia ran to get her 'Little Big Brother' doll while the Brigadier General glanced warily at the Big Big Brother. It was made entirely out of a silvery sort of cloth, with a spike at the top that had a tuft of string poking out of it.

_Wait a minute_, Mustang realized suddenly. _If this is Big Big Brother then Little Big Brother must be—_

"Here's Little Big Brother!" the little girl cried, and smacked it into his hand.

_Congratulations, Maes. Your daughter is only six and already as pushy as you were. _AndRoy just stared at the miniature boy that had been so forcefully given to him; at the red coat and yarn-braid and yellow buttons that were sewn in where his eyes would be. Roy's brain suggested cracking a joke at how Ed would respond to being called 'Little Big Brother' but his body refused to obey, and so he just continued staring.

The girl seemed to take his silence as a compliment. She beamed at him and pointed to the back of his coat, where she had scribbled in black marker. "I couldn't remember what sign was there, so I just made a smiley-face," Elysia told him, as if this was a brilliant improvisation on her part. "His hair was really hard to make, too…I wonder how Ed does it every day without even looking…"

'Does,' in present tense. Roy kept staring.

She was quiet for a few seconds, probably expecting a response, but none came, so she continued, "There's been a lot of rumors about him, hasn't there? I wonder which ones are true." Elysia looked up at him with her wide, olive eyes that Hughes called 'irresistible' and Mustang called 'creepy-because-they're-exactly-like-Maes's'. "The one about Ed being gone forever…" Roy could almost _feel _the pleading edge in her voice, the voice of a child that didn't want to be abandoned again, and suddenly he understood why his friend had thought her eyes irresistible. "That's not true, is it?"

General Mustang held the doll up, studying it for a moment. "Of course it's not true," he said, more to it than her. "Right, Fullmetal?"

The doll stared back at him like the useless lump of stuffing and yarn that it was. Roy frowned, and flicked it in the face. Then he flicked it again. And then he flicked it again and again and again and again and again and again and again until Elysia had to intervene, snatching it away before he could take the doll's head off.

She shot him a glare so similar to her mother's that he nearly burst out laughing, and handed the Brigadier General his own doll instead.

"If you have a problem with Little Big Brother," she said loudly, her hands on her hips, "then you should take it up with the real thing!"

This time Roy didn't bother trying to hold back his laughter.


	11. Challenge Eleven: Protection

--Winry has her own type of affection, I suppose....

_Challenge 11: Protection_

Rush Valley. The automail center of Amestris. The city that occupied much of Winry Rockbell's daydream time. The city that Edward Elric avoided at all costs.

So, when the two of them had an opportunity to visit said city, the battle was long and hard, each side insisting that he or she would never do as the other said.

Two days later, they were in Rush Valley.

"Can we go home now?" the boy whined, trudging behind Winry and poking her in the back every now and then.

"No. Shut up," the girl replied. She glanced at the map she had bought on the train and made a little squealing sound. "We're only a few blocks from the house of Matilda Grooksin, the first female automail mechanic ever!"

Ed scrunched his face up and unenthusiastically twirled a finger in the air, wishing Al was there to calm her down. "Whoop-dee-flippin'-doo."

Winry ignored him, which probably would have made the alchemist thankful had he not been busy grumbling to himself about the entire situation.

"Hey, blondie! Yeah, you in the red!"

Both Ed and Winry looked up. Ed pointed to himself in confusion, and the owner of the voice, a teenaged girl with thick, curly red hair, grinned cheekily at him. "Yeah, you. Looks like you could use some new automail, huh?"

The alchemist stared. He wasn't showing an inch of metal, not even between his gloves and coat-sleeves. "How did you—"

A slightly older-looking girl next to her rolled her eyes. "We're experts, hun. Now, how much do you have on you?"

"Automail?" he asked, confused.

"No, stupid. _Money_."

Ed opened his mouth to reply, but Winry got to it first. "Actually," she said, a note of disdain in her voice, "he has perfectly good automail already."

"Oh, really?" the redhead smirked back. "Because from the way he's dragging it, it looks like the mechanic just attached a lump of steel to his shoulder."

The blonde girl flushed angrily, and then turned sharply to Ed and barked, "UNDRESS."

"_Excuse me?" _

"You heard me! Shirt off!"

"I am _not_ taking my shirt off in the middle of the street!"

"You know, there are many painful ways to attach automail…" Edward fought back the urge to take a step back at the dangerous glint in her eyes. "Some people have even passed out for days at a time from it."

"Alright, alright, I'm doing it… Yeesh."

He shrugged off his coat and handed it to Winry, who was looking smugly at the other girls. Working hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Edward unbuttoned his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head, and gave both to the girl.

"See?" Winry said, gesturing to his right arm proudly.

"Hm," they murmured in response. Ed raised an eyebrow, suspecting that they weren't actually looking at the automail.

Maybe Winry noticed their distinct lack of worshipfulness for her mechanical expertise too, because she shoved his clothes back and ordered him to get dressed in a bathroom nearby. So off he went, muttering incoherently to himself all the while.

The moment he was out of earshot, the two Rush Valley mechanics turned to each other and grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking anywhere along the lines of 'good gods he's hot', then _yeah_."

"It looks like he's part of the military too—Did you see his pocket-watch?"

"Did you see his abs?"

"Did you see his _wallet?"_

"Sorry, girls, but he's taken," Winry interjected, a half-annoyed, half-disgusted expression on her face.

"Oh, is he?" the redhead said with a smirk. "Not by _you,_ right?"

"Of course not," she replied peevishly. "But I know for sure that his _boyfriend_ won't appreciate it much if he heard you talking like that."

The girls stared at Winry, then at each other, and then back at Winry. "His… his…. Ohhhhhhhh…"

"What are you guys talking about?" Ed asked, coming up behind the Rizembul mechanic. The two other girls glanced at each other and started giggling, while Winry smiled and grabbed Edward's automail wrist, leading him down the street.

"What did you tell them?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh…nothing," she laughed, putting the boy even further on edge. "Come on, we're going to be late to the Rush Valley convention tour."


	12. Challenge Twelve: First Date

--So. This has taken a while because I've been a) getting back into the new school semester and b) because I've been on a writing kick and was too lazy to type anything =_= BUT, I've got a snow-day today so I figured I'd finally type this, and you, dear reader, have to help me out now. On this writing kick, I've been writing only Ed/Winry. This drabble collection is supposed to be more broad, SO, I could either end 'scrap paper' with this chapter, OR, I could continue it with more of a focus on Ed/Winry. VOTE TIEM! (Thank you!)

_Challenge 12: First Date_

Ed glared intently at the sugar bowl on the pristine white tablecloth, fiddling with his shirtsleeve. Winry watched her own fingers, which were folded in her lap, and the silence _stretched._

"So," Ed ventured, clearing his throat awkwardly. "When do you think the food is coming?"

"I don't know," said Winry.

They fell back into silence.

After a moment he tried again hesitantly, "Do you..._like_ lobster?"

She looked sideways instead of at him, as if this was starting to irritate her. "I ordered it, didn't I?"

"Well, I don't know--Is it really that weird to wonder if it's a _coincidence_ that you chose the most expensive thing on the menu?"

"If you didn't want me ordering it you should have said so!" she cried, her head snapping up to look at him. "I happen to _like_ lobster!"

"Even if I said you shouldn't you would have ordered it anyway!" Ed retorted. "Just because I work for the military doesn't mean I have limitless funds!"

"FINE! Then I'll pay for myself!"

"You can't pay for yourself, this is my first date, and _your_ first date, and we're gonna do it the way it's supposed to be done if it _kills_ somebody!" Ed yelled. People were starting to stare.

Winry sputtered for a moment, found nothing to say to that, and screamed, "Alchemy freak!"

"Automail freak!"

She grabbed the first thing in arm's reach, which happened to be the ketchup bottle, and pointed it at Ed. "I am _not_ a freak, you alchemy-obsessed kitty-killer!" The ketchup went spurting out of the bottle all at once, spattering over Ed's shirt like blood. he grit his teeth and grabbed the mustard bottle and shot it into her hair, making her squeak.

"I don't_ kill kittens,_ you nasty, uncute witch, if you love automail so much why don't you marry i-" and was unceremoniously cut off as a spray of relish was squirted into his face.

The waiters managed to break up the fight before any serious damage was done, and then they were booted out of the restaurant. Ed kicked at the door and demanded that they get the lobster they paid for, and pretty soon it was tossed out too.

They sat on the curb next to the restaurant with no cutlery and their hair dripping condiments onto the pavement, and both of them agreed that this was the way a first date ought to be done.


End file.
